What A Twisted World It Is, Indeed
by callmeluna
Summary: Hogwarts has been turned upside down! If you're looking for a story that is as crazy as Hagrid is tall, you've found the right one!
1. And It Starts

_Harry Potter was not just an ordinary boy. He was the boy who lived. _

But you already know this. In fact, if you're reading this story, you're probably one of those Harry Potter fanatics.

It's okay. I am, too.

Anyways, back to the story. Over the past few years during Harry's coming of age, he had become more and more aloof towards his friends and surroundings in general. In fact, you could color him to be a downright ass hat. Blowing off Hermione and Ron to "contemplate" became a daily ordeal by now. Perhaps that was when all of this U.S.T. came to play.

U.S.T., you say? It stands for Unresolved Sexual Tension. Something that existed between Ron and Hermione. Once they discovered their brazen feelings for one another, they couldn't keep it to themselves… no, not at all. They were found snogging in a broom closet or empty classroom at most random hours of the day (or more likely, the night) to a few most displeased discoverers. However, countless detentions and lectures seemed to have no effect on the couple. They're puppy love was untouched. No, I wouldn't say puppy love. I'd say puppy lust.

And this story isn't just that twisted. No, it gets much crazier.

Take Neville Longbottom.

The poor boy… he's had his share of problems. First of all, he's always being embarrassed over something. And then there are those teeth. They're dastardly. And then his ears. They stick out like that of an elephant's. But you'd think that one of those Christina-Aguilera-I-Am-Beautiful girls would find _something_ in this bloke, wouldn't you? I certainly did. Maybe if he set up an orthodontist appointment. But no. Neville never got the girls.

And the truth is, he didn't _want_ the girls. He honestly wanted one person. One _boy._ Harry Potter. Neville wanted him so badly he could hardly stand it. No one knew this deep and dark secret, of course. Not even his closest friends, Seamus Finnegan or Dean Thomas. Everyone was clueless.

Draco Malfoy. Now there's a fellow whose path you do _not_ want to cross. Sure, he might be extremely good looking. However, all of that can be forgotten quite easily if you simply carry on a short conversation with the chap. Again, this doesn't work well for attracting those of the opposite sex. Not at all.

Unlike Longbottom, Malfoy _does_ prefer that of the opposite sex. Oh, does he have his eye on one in particular. There is one problem, though. One small, tiny, itsy bitsy problem.

She's not alive. In fact, she hasn't been in decades.

And he met her in a girl's bathroom.

I mean, who wants to explain that.

"Daddy, where did you meet Mommy?"

"Why, one day, I stumbled upon her in an abandoned girl's lavaratory. Why do you ask?"

Yes, Moaning Myrtle. Draco Malfoy has "a thing" for Moaning Myrtle. And who is she to complain?

While most Slytherins will spend their time socializing with their heartless peers, Malfoy has began spending all of his excess time in the second floor girl's bathroom, which has been out of order for many a year. He has discovered his "softer side" and no longer considers himself 100 percent Slytherin. I know. It's a crazy, crazy world. In fact, he vents to Myrtle on the many downsides to being the son of Lucius Malfoy, the man with the nasty hair.

So this is where we enter… I mean, the story, that is. The rest of the crazyness… well, you'll just have to find out about it in a bit. I had to tell you _some_ of the mess that was going on. But now I suppose I'll have to tell you the full story so you'll believe me.

Draco Malfoy entered the second floor girl's bathroom, mumbling under his breath angrily. The door swung closed with a loud _creeeeeeak, _startling Myrtle.

"Is that you, Drakey?" she cooed in her ever so obnoxious voice. A splash from one of the stalls sent toilet water flying through the air. A pleasant welcome if you asked me.

"Yes, it is, my lovely Myrtle," he replied, his light grey eyes flickering around for his transparent crush.

"And how was _your_ day?" she said, with a bit of a pout.

"Shitty. But nothing else is new, dear Myrtle. I feel like I don't belong in Slytherin anymore."

"What's wrong with Slytherin, Drakey? I mean, they're so dark and mean to everyone! I find it quite attractive in boys."

Malfoy slammed down his over-the-shoulder satchel and glared at the young ghost. "You never care about _me!_" he yelled, tears welling up in his eyes. "What about _me? _What about _my feelings_? Did anyone ever ask? No, I don't think so. I don't think you _once_ asked about _my feelings._"

Myrtle squished up her face and choked back a laugh she knew was coming. "And _how_ am I supposed to care about your feelings, you bloody idiot. You're forgetting one _minor _detail… _I'm DEAD!" _

Thus, the bickering continued, as it had every day before then. Malfoy came in each afternoon; perhaps he was more feminine than he had been the day before. He always found a reason to cry, and Myrtle always berated him about the crying. It was a never ending cycle.

Meanwhile, back in the Gryffindor Common Room, Ron and Hermione attempted to finish an assignment from Potions Class. Snape had assigned a thirty-six inch essay due tomorrow, and Hermione was doing her best to focus. However, she was being unsuccessful.

Her eyes kept darting over to Ron across the table. _Oh, his shoulders are so broad. How sexy is a strong boy? And that sweater… Oh how I want to just RIP IT OFF!_

Meanwhile, Ron was doing the same. _Polyjuice Potion is the number one most_…._ oh, who gives a load of dung about Polyjuice Potion when Hermione Granger is sitting across from me at this very table, fully clothed! _

"Ron—" began Hermione, dropping her quill on top of her parchment and looking at him deviously.

"Hermione?" said Ron, smiling and raising one eyebrow at her.

In a split second, Hermione had pounced on top of Ron, and they began their usual routine of snogging and groping.

Harry entered the Common Room from the boys' dormitory. His hair was disheveled and his glasses lopsided. Not even glancing at Ron and Hermione (nor noticing what they were "up to"), he said, "You two… I'm going to go to the library. I need some time to… _think_." He wandered past them as though he was in a trance.

"Mmmm?" questioned Hermione to Harry, although she had hardly absorbed what he had just said.

"Mmmm," moaned Ron, allowing Hermione to remove his burgundy sweater…

_Knock Knock_.

Harry removed his Invisibility Cloak as he reached Hagrid's front stoop. From the inside, he heard muffled voices.

"Quick, Minerva. Move yerself! Under theh bed!"

Harry suddenly became extremely queasy…


	2. A Stiffy and A Crooked Nose

Hello everyone! Thank you so much for the reviews. Please keep them coming… good or bad, I love getting them. It helps me know if I should keep writing and such.

So you're probably wondering what in the _hell_ is going on between Hagrid and Minvera McGonagall in the hut. Well, you'll find out. Eventually…

Back to the dormitories, though.

Neville Longbottom sat in the deserted Boy's Dormitories on top of his bed. He had just completed his Potions essay, although he was quite confident that it would not meet Professor Snape's approval (then again, what did if you weren't a Slytherin?).

He found himself staring at Harry's empty bed across the room and smiling softly to himself. A clean bathrobe was draped over the foot of the bed. And a picture of Ron, Hermione, and Harry smiling happily sat atop the nightstand.

Before he knew it, he had slid off his bed and was over by Harry's, stroking the bathrobe. Harry was such a handsome boy. With such broad shoulders. And after those Quidditch matches when he would come back into the dorms and change back into his regular clothes… he was so sweaty and dirty. Neville always enjoyed watching him change…

And then he heard footsteps.

Like a deer in headlights, he froze. _Oh. My. God._

"Oh. My. God."

Seamus Finnegan stopped dead in his tracks. But he wasn't looking at Neville's hands, which were "feeling up" the robe in inappropriate locations. Instead, he glanced at Neville's below-the-waist area.

Neville glanced down. "Oh. My. God," he said in response.

"_Sick_, Neville. _Sick!_" said Seamus. He slowly made his way to his own bed, not taking his eyes off Neville, and almost tripping over the trunk at the foot of Dean's bed.

"N-n-n-no, Seamus. It's not what you think. N-n-n-not at _all!_" squawked Neville, placing his hands over the personal area that was drawing some not-so-personal attention to itself.

"_Siiiiiiiiiick_," repeated Seamus. He was standing next to his bed, but it seemed as though his body was too stiff with confusion and disgust to allow him to sit down.

"Seamus… you… you can't tell Harry. You won't tell Harry, will you?"

"_Siiiiiiiiick_."

Meanwhile….

There was a large thud, and a dazzling green light shot across the room. It was coming from the fireplace.

"Who'd floo at this hour of the night?" said Tonks, who was sitting in a nearby armchair.

"Haven't the slightest," said Sirius.

_BAM!_

A strange looking man with a crooked nose and crappy haircut appeared in the fireplace and dusted himself off.

"Who in the _fuck_ are you?" bellowed Sirius.

"And _what_ are you doing at this house?" followed up Remus's voice, equally as alarmed.

"Why, I'm Bob Saget," said Bob Saget.

Okay, that's all of Chapter 2 ! You MUST let me know what you thought… so hurry! Go review! And I'll love you forever.


End file.
